


Adamant (Mahō Shōnen Kinshirō Magica) LOVE!

by Xylophone



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, 美男高校地球防衛部LOVE! | Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei-bu LOVE!
Genre: 'I'm not sure', AU, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Love, all pairings basically as in canon, and are approximately as Platonic (or not) as in canon, half serious, too dark for Battle Lovers, too light for Madoka Magica
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylophone/pseuds/Xylophone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinshirō has a promise to keep as long as entropy hasn't burned out all the stars in the universe. Homura has a burden she knows she must bear just as long. In the face of a world where magic and wishes are no stronger than love or despair, how long can one's will remain unbroken?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference._

* * *

 

 _He was already falling through the air when the thought struck him._ That sword, he thought. That stupid sword. _Above him, the tower of Binan Highschool was crashing down. Below, Chevalier Aurite, lost in thought, slim silvered blade in hand, turned toward it._ Well, _he thought,_ too late now.

_Epinard swept low and caught Kinshirō Kusatsu in his arms._

* * *

 

 “I wish . . .” Kinshirō whispered. The first words he could choke out. He was still sobbing in the dust beside the body of Battle Lover Epinard. Atsushi Kinugawa, run through with a Chevalier’s blade. The ruins of every bad choice Kinshirō Kusatsu, Student President of Binan Highschool, had ever made.

“You said I didn’t need to make a wish for it. You called me silly. But I wasn’t, At-chan. The wish wasn’t even enough.”

He didn’t register the soft _whump_ nearby on a conscious level, though his fingers twitched almost imperceptibly at the sound. “I can’t ask you to forgive me,” he said through his tears. “I can’t say anything to you anymore because you’re dead, Atsushi, and all my hatred and denial was worth nothing in the end, it was worth less than nothing. I broke everything, I know it, I know it, I wish . . .” _I wish I could make it right_.

He took the sword in his hands, still slick with Kinugawa’s blood, and twisted it, as though he could rip it apart and throw it away, but it was futile. It was idiotic. “Why would you save me, why would you _die_ to save _me_ . . .”

“ _Kinshirō Kusatsu!_ ” The resonant voice startled him, the joyous, wonder-stricken tone hammering in his ears. Or perhaps just his brain. He wrenched his gaze away from Atsushi Kinugawa’s body and saw before his eyes a cat. No, not a cat. It was white and had long haloed ear-flaps, and it seemed to shine with an inner silver light as it gazed at him expectantly. Behind him, almost in a shadow beneath the stormy sky, stood a girl about his own age, in an elaborate lavender-and-white costume, with a large purple jewel adorning the back of one hand. She looked unmoved, almost bored as she looked over the scene. “Kinshirō Kusatsu!” said the cat-like creature. “Would you like to make a contract?”

“A contract?” He forced the words out; he was shaking almost too hard to speak. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I am Kyubey. This is my friend, Homura Akemi, a Magical Girl. I can grant you whatever wish you like, Kinshirō Kusatsu. For a price. I believe you have potential, and I would like to make a deal with you.”

“ _A wish._ ”

“Any wish you desire. The power within you is quite strong. You would make a great contribution to the cause. Only become a Magical Boy and fight Wraiths, collecting their curses and releasing their energies. That would be your end of the bargain. It is no easy task, but you may name the price of your soul’s dedication.”

Kinshirō glanced from the cat-like creature – Kyubey – to the girl, who still made neither gesture nor expression, to the body of his enemy – his friend – and he grabbed Atsushi’s hand. It was warm in his. Only a minute or two had passed since he stopped breathing.

“I’m already a Magical Boy. At least I think I am. Or I was.” He closed his eyes. “A wish, you said.”

“Speak and it shall be granted,” the cat-creature said, smiling. “Your Soul Gem shall shine bright, I know it!”

“My what?” He met the pink, blinkless eyes of the little white creature, so sweet and gentle. Promising so much.

“Your soul, crystallized. It will allow you to access far greater powers than any you have now, to aid you in your ceaseless fight. You will understand soon enough. I’m sure Homura will guide you in all that. She can look after you, once you have made the contract. Just know: your wish will surpass the laws that govern entropy. Your soul will illuminate the entire universe that much longer. In the end, the sacrifice is equal to the boon.” Kinshirō faltered as the words echoed away. If this were true, how could he refuse? Atsushi clearly thought he, Kinshirō, was worth everything he could sacrifice. And he had chosen his fate in a heartbeat. Whatever burden the creature was trying to describe didn’t matter. It was nothing in the face of that. Did the creature understand that, or care? Kinshirō looked up at the girl, but she made no sign. Still, it seemed as though the gem on her hand shimmered slightly.

Never mind. There was no time to waste on more questions. “I’ll do whatever it is, whatever you want, if you can really grant my wish.”

“Then let us make the contract without delay!”

“I wish . . .” Kinshirō said, and broke off, sobbing again. _No_ , he told himself, no, that wouldn’t do, now, of all times, was the moment he had to draw on whatever reserves he had of emotional restraint. He straightened his shoulders, willed himself to present the calm, collected demeanor he had projected for so long as Student Council President of Binan Highschool. He mastered himself. “Atsushi Kinugawa died before I could try to restore our friendship. He must live in order for my wish to take effect. I wish to have the chance to be friends with Atsushi Kinugawa forever.”

The cat-creature stared silently. The girl looked down on him with immense pity.

“That is my wish,” Kinshirō said, suddenly exhausted.

And a radiant golden light erupted from his chest.

* * *

 

That night he did not sleep. His skin was still warm and fresh from the bath, and he felt new. Cleansed. He wasn’t sure he felt real at all, anymore. And he kept returning to thoughts he didn’t want to remember. Atsushi Kinugawa was his friend once again, he had laughed and joked among them – all eight of them, Battle Lovers and Caerula Adamas together – at the bathhouse that afternoon, after helping defeat Lord Zundar and Hireashi. That was all true; Kinshirō had experienced that. And Atsushi had, hours earlier, died saving Kinshirō. That was also true.

It was futile to try to distract himself with homework or Student Council business, though out of a habit of meaningless discipline he actually tried for a solid two hours, shifting back and forth between the papers but unable to process a single word. Without really thinking about it, he drifted up from his desk and shut the lights in his room. In the darkness, he made his way to the wide window, opened it, and stared out over the streets of the town, quiet now the day was through, and then up at the sky, so blue it looked black, and filled with stars like bubbles in an overflowing glass.

He remembered falling through the air, pushed away from the collapsing building, secure in Atsushi’s arms. His blade buried deep in Atsushi’s chest. A long vigil of resentment and hatred like poison in his veins. A wish to set things right.

None of the stars were falling tonight. The sky, the galaxy, the universe entire washed over him. He felt as though he were looking not up but down into a great void, only it was not void, it was brimming with who knew how many people, how many thinking beings, how much warmth – how much distance –

He found himself climbing out the window to stand on the outer sill, where he waited in silence for he did not know how long, and may have passed somewhere between sleeping and waking, half dreaming of a long-ago night and long-ago stars burning out into nothingness, before he saw it.

Against the dark it was white, and huge, and shaped almost like a man. The face was blank and blurred, as though it were a glitching computer image, which made it seem flimsy and dreamlike, but even from several blocks away, Kinshirō could see it was all too real. A Wraith. Unmistakably one of the monsters Kyubey had spoken of before he made his wish. It was a reality that must have existed since long ago, though Kinshirō’s eyes were only unveiled to the existence of its kind that night. _They have been with us since humans became humans and learned to love and hate and hurt each other_ , he thought, not knowing exactly how he knew. But the Wraith’s face like a clear lake mirrored the disdain he had expressed for humanity and its messy weaknesses when he was Lord Zundar’s lieutenant back at him, and it was piteous and abominable. _No_ , he thought, _it isn’t right, I wasn’t right, that’s not how it should be –_

He wanted to scream – he wanted to tear the skin off his face and scalp – but his Caerula Adamas ring sparked against his skin. Golden light flickering. That was where it lay, the golden jewel that was his _Soul Gem_ , in the words of the cat-like Kyubey. _Conquest_. Was that what the Wraith wanted? Then he must deny it.

He did not have to say a word. In the space of a moment golden radiance swept over him and was gone, and Chevalier Aurite was left standing in the night alone, hand upon the pommel of his sword. A breeze came in to catch the edge of his crimson cape, biting into him icily, and he shivered. He was used to having Argent and Perlite beside him. But this was a new test. An obligation. Some way of paying things back, perhaps. He was the one who had made the wish, after all.

He heard no sound in the dark world but himself falling gracefully to the ground and beginning to run. And though he was dressed again in elegant black, as a Chevalier, he felt that all the ridiculous masks had been torn off, that there were no more petty games and grandiose words to hide behind. No more reassurance that Lord Zundar was with him, supporting his every move. No thinking that his fellow members of Caerula Adamas would play their roles alongside him, or that the Battle Lovers would inevitably get in the way. No pretending that At-chan would know or care how Kinshirō’s battle fared. He looked up ahead into the face of the Wraith.

There was just him. Him and the mirror.

* * *

 

“Hey you.” The voice – a girl’s voice, loud and brash – pierced his hazy senses as he slashed with trembling arms at the Wraith for what seemed like the thousandth time. He looked up into the misty world. A grey smudge was lightening the sky. Dawn was near.

“What are you doing here? Newbie. Do you even know how to use your _powers_? Hacking at that thing for minutes on end with one lousy sword? Pathetic.” A scarlet spear came crashing through the alleyway into the spine of the stumbling, half-crippled Wraith, and it finally collapsed on itself, its robes falling apart and its form dissolving into steam. Kinshirō fell to the pavement, his breathing harsh but shallow. He didn’t have the energy to even look up and see who had helped him finally fell the monster. He was just relieved it was over.

“You okay?” called the voice. “Seriously, why are you out here alone, dummy? You’re really lucky there was only one of them, you know? You’re basically fresh meat as it is.”

He didn’t respond, focusing on the feel of the cool asphalt pressed into his face. _It’s done_ , he thought. _It’s gone. Good._ There came a rustling of petticoats, the click of boot heels, then the sudden feel of his shoulder being gripped hard and pulled as the voice said, “Stupid, do you even know the first thing –”

Kinshirō Kusatsu found himself face-to-face with a girl with feral eyes and a long red ponytail.

“– about being a Magical Girl,” she finished. “Hmm, I guess not. What are you playing at, anyway?”

Kinshirō managed a shrug.

“Whatever, I’m not the sort of person who butts into things, but you’re not going to last very well if you don’t get your shit together.” She reached into a pocket of her elegant red coat and produced a package of Pocky. A silly confection with a sort of juvenile, mass-market appeal . . . _Why bother?_ Kinshirō thought. He remembered what Atsushi had said yesterday at the bath, “We’re not talking about superior or inferior.” It was even sillier than the Pocky to think himself somehow above such things, especially as this was something offered in a compassionate spirit. The girl slid a piece in her mouth before offering the box to Kinshirō, who pushed himself off the ground and into a sitting position so he could take one.

It was actually pretty good. After fighting for hours, sugar was very welcome. Chocolate especially.

“Thank you,” Kinshirō said quietly, looking at the ground. “For the help and the – Pocky.” They sat together, taking turns at the pastry sticks and eating in companionable silence until the package was empty, when, as if on cue, a little white cat – but not a cat, naturally – pattered into the alleyway.

“Hey, Kyubey,” the girl said. “Busy night?”

“The usual,” replied Kyubey. “I see you’ve met with a new recruit.”

“Yeah, I was curious why he’s – never mind. Did anyone tell him anything about what he’s supposed to be doing?”

“He only had the usual prelude before making his wish. I had asked Homura to show him the ropes, but it appears she hasn’t. How odd. I wonder what could have made her apprehensive about the task of mentorship. It’s not lack of experience in the matter, after all.”

“Huh, well, I dunno. I’ll have some Grief Cubes for you soon, Kyubey.”

“Then soon we shall meet again.” And it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“You know it too?” Kinshirō asked.

“Every magical girl for miles around knows Kyubey. Except you don’t seem to know anything, which I guess is Homura’s fault? Whatever, not my business. Anyway, I wasn’t planning on hanging around,” she said, “but I don’t regret helping. And before I go, just for my curiosity: who are you and why are you, you know, male?”

He wasn’t sure whether he had any high-tech privacy pixilation going on, but either way he might not want to give out his real name. It was becoming increasingly clear that he knew effectively nothing about Wraiths and the Magical Girls (no Boys?) who fought them, so he should tread cautiously.“Ah – you can call me Chevalier Aurite.”

The girl burst out in a fit of laughter so hard she ended up doubled over, clutching her stomach. “Oh my god, that’s a good one.” She hiccupped once. “That’s hilarious. And you’re _serious_!”

“Yes, I am.” Kinshirō stood up, dusted himself off with deliberate thoroughness, and bowed stiffly toward the girl. “Chevalier Aurite, at your service.”

“Yeah, and you can call me Card Captor Sakura, _Chevalier_ Fancy Pants.” The girl shook her head as though he were the biggest fool she had ever seen, though Kinshirō didn’t know if there was a better approach to decorum for the moment.

“As you will, Sakura-san.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ll have it knocked out of you soon enough, or you’ll be gone. One way or the other. But listen, _Chevalier_. It’s dangerous to go alone, especially if you aren’t so powerful, experienced, or bright.” She grinned a wolfish grin, and her teeth seemed sharper than they should have been. “Take these. Neglect your Soul Gem and pay the price, you know. Rest of the loot is mine.” And she tossed him a few small black cubes which shone like obsidian in the brightening sunlight.

Then she was gone, and Kinshirō Kusatsu realized that it was time to prepare for school.

* * *

 

Agenda item number one: ensuring that the massive post-Festival coverup was successful. If it was not completely bulletproof, both the Student Council and the Earth Defense Club would be in a lot of trouble. Notwithstanding the fact that some ad-hoc magic had managed to physically hold the school together in the wake of a lot of super-powered axe chopping, there was very urgent work to be done.

Today was a Friday, it being traditional to hold the Festival on a Thursday. The notion was that it would allow students to wind down their exuberance and the winning club to bask in its success (and gloat a little) before the weekend, and, on Monday, resume with a normal school week. Kinshirō had, since he entered highschool, considered the Festival with its attendant preparations to be an almost universal waste of time, messy and chaotic and never living up to its potential as a pleasant, refined expression of school spirit (and the Friday of everyone slacking off an unacceptable sanction to waste everyone’s time). Perhaps now he could come to appreciate the whole thing, thinking about how proud and pleased Atsushi had seemed when his rescued curry became a school-wide hit. But the prospect of papering over a massive battle between Battle Lovers (accompanied by Caerula Adamas) and two aliens in a huge porcupine-fish mecha meant that sort of consideration would have to wait. As would sleep, despite Kinshirō’s exhaustion.

He arrived in the Student Council office an hour before the official start of the school day and drafted all the forms he would need that morning. By the time Arima and Akoya arrived, looking unusually lighthearted, laughing together as they walked in, he had their tasks prepared for immediate dispatch. Arima was sent to formally dissolve the Press Society and temporarily take down their website. Akoya, meanwhile, was given notes for delivery, signed by the Student Council President, for En Yufuin, Atsushi Kinugawa, Io Naruko, Ryū Zaō, and Yumoto Hakone, excusing them from each morning class individually, to better obscure the fact that they would not be done with business until noon. With things the way they usually were the Friday after the Festival, missing classes wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows, but the more secure the meeting was, the better.

At nine-thirty sharp, he had Akoya open the semi-secret door between the Student Council Office and the Earth Defense Club room. Naruko walked in, followed by Zaō.

“Good morning, Naruko-san, Zaō-san.” Kinshirō was finishing a cup of milky coffee, extremely grateful that Arima had returned in time to prepare the office for a proper meeting. It wouldn’t do to keel over during an important summit, sleepless night battling a monster or no.

“Good morning,” Naruko replied. “I’m here to confirm that the Earth Defense Club is claiming the full cash prize as the winning club offering at the Festival.”

Kinshirō glanced from him to Arima, sitting in an armchair with a pleasant, expectant look on his face, to Akoya, who seemed to be engaged in a staring contest with Zaō, long elegant fingers absentmindedly twirling his long opalescent hair. It took most of Kinshirō’s self-control to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Well, Naruko-san, that’s one of a number of things we’ll have to arrange _when everyone involved has arrived_. Dare I ask where the other three members of your club are? Not to mention your club mentor.” He paused. “Assuming he’s feeling well enough to make it, of course.”

“Hmm, well, Yufuin is running late and Kinugawa is probably trying to hurry him up, and Yumoto – oh no, Ryū, did we lose track of Yumoto?”

“Here we are! With Wombat! The Earth Defense Club is here!” sang out a voice everyone knew far too well.

“Apparently you didn’t,” Arima said as Yumoto Hakone practically danced in, clutching the struggling pink wombat-like alien. Behind him, rather more sedately, came En Yufuin and Atsushi Kinugawa, followed very slowly by a dazed-looking Mr. Tawarayama, who looked considerably healthier to Kinshirō than he had in weeks, but not, it must be admitted, completely _alive_ yet.

“Sorry we were nearly late, Kin-chan,” Atsushi said, smiling that guileless smile of his. The smile that twisted like a knife in Kinshirō’s guts. Did Atsushi remember dying yesterday? Did he remember a golden Soul Gem emerging from Kinshirō’s chest? He made no sign. But it was a good pain, Kinshirō thought. It was right that he felt something at At-chan’s sincerity, his friendship, even if most of what he felt was regret that he had rejected it for so long.

“It is not a problem,” he replied, giving a small smile in return. “Not at all. So. Does everyone have a seat?” Everyone did but Yumoto, who quickly sat down on the arm of Arima’s chair, allowing Wombat to scamper off to the relative safety of the windowsill. “Excellent. Thank you for coming. So, about resolving the remaining issues from yesterday’s events . . .”

“We _are_ getting the cash prize, aren’t we?”

Kinshirō caught a glimpse of Akoya’s smirk and heard him mutter to himself, “Naruko is so _gauche_ sometimes, though.”

To the inevitable retort from Zaō, which barely qualified as under his breath, “As if _you’re_ so –”

“Everyone, cut it out,” Atsushi said. “Aren’t we friends now? This sort of thing should be behind all of us. Can’t we let the President tell us what needs to get done today, please?”

“Thank you. Now, regarding the winner of the club offering at the Festival, and the associated cash prize, there is currently a complication. I’ve tallied the votes, and the winner is not on the original list.”

“You mean it’s not the Battle Lovers?” Hakone asked. “I thought everyone loved Kinugawa’s curry. It was so _good_ . . .”

“The fact is,” Kinshirō continued, “by far the most votes went to, effectively, the group that put on the huge light show with the mecha and the fighting boys in costume. It was a massively successful write-in campaign. The winner by election is, therefore, not on the list, despite its overwhelming popularity.” There was silence as everyone processed this.

“ _Typical_ ,” Yufuin said.

“But there seems to me to be a simple and equitable solution that will prevent too many questions from being asked. You, the Earth Defense Club, presented yourselves in cosplay as the fighters seen around the school these past couple of months as part of your club presentation and curry sale. Secretly, the Student Council, which traditionally doesn’t participate but presides over the Festival competition, planned with your club to put on a surprise show, and so we came to face you in our own cosplay and had a mock battle together, complete with a light show and some fancy special effects. We didn’t intend it to be taken as a club offering to be voted on, just something exciting for the Festival. And, naturally, as arbiters of the competition, the Student Council couldn’t possibly claim any portion of the prize. Therefore the prize will go to the Earth Defense Club specifically for their participation in this performance, a fair outcome for your club and the voters.”

“And explaining pretty much everything about what went on yesterday in one fell swoop,” Yufuin said. “Clever. Simple. I like it.”

“And we get the prize;” Naruko said, “excellent. No more than I expected, of course.”

“So that is the story and we are all sticking to it outside this room,” Kinshirō said. “No exceptions. Arima has started the process of disbanding the Press Society. I’ll finish negotiations with them this afternoon. It should be quick. They don’t have Hireashi anymore, and the Student Council has numerous potential reasons to order their club dissolved. We’ll see to it that they cooperate with our version of the events and officially the disbandment will be due to failure to expand their club to the five member requirement this semester. No more will need to be said regarding them.”

“Wow, Kusatsu-san,” Hakone said, “you really thought of everything.”

“I certainly hope I have. The responsibility of the Student Council is the good of the school. Speaking of which, a question for the Earth Defense Club: Do you have the capacity to shore up some of the repair work we did yesterday? It would be best if the tower could be repaired, good as new.”

It turned out that Wombat could help fix that while he was busy ensuring Mr. Tawarayama was brought back to life properly. Thank goodness.

“I’m so glad everything could be worked out smoothly,” Arima said. “Wait, I almost forgot! I got some nice macarons for the meeting, to go with the coffee –”

“Oooh,” Akoya said. “ _Macarons_. What a lovely idea.” For once, Kinshirō couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It _was_ a nice idea, and the Earth Defense Club, to a man (and Wombat) agreed. Kinshirō was starting to relax, his mind wandering a little as he watched Hakone stuff his mouth with cookies, when he heard a cool, feminine voice in the back of his mind. Simultaneously, Yufuin began to speak in his sleepy drawl.

“Do you guys still have your magic?” he asked.

 _Kinshirō Kusatsu?_ the voice asked.

“Hm?” Akoya and Arima shared a look.

“I think so. I can still feel the magic connection in mine,” Arima replied.

“Same with me,” Akoya said.

Kinshirō focused on the telepathic voice. _Yes_ he thought, in what he hoped was the right direction. _Who are you? Homura Akemi, is that you?_

 _Yes_ , said the voice in his mind. _I have things to discuss with you._

“Uh, Kusatsu-san?” Arima asked.

“Ah, yes, mine is still working as well,” Kinshirō said, refocusing on the meeting. “And you five still have your magic bracelets.”

_Akemi-san, I’m – I’m holding a meeting._

“Loveracelets!” cried the pink Wombat.

 _I need to meet with you myself_ , came the reply. _After school, take your normal route home. I’ll catch you on the way._

“Yes, those. I assume yours still work as well.”He switched to the conversation in his mind. _I – Akemi-san, I was planning to take a different route today, actually. With a friend. It’s important._

“They do,” Yufuin replied. “We – the Earth Defense Club – aren’t leaving here until we have a pledge from you three. Not to engage in any future shenanigans using magic without telling one of us first, so no one freaks out and transforms or starts a fight by accident. We’ll do the same for you. And second, if something weird or magical or having to do with aliens happens around here, we have to alert all the others. Yesterday proved two things: Things go a lot better when we’re united. And eight of us together are a lot strong then one. Or three, or five.”

 _This is both urgent_ and _important, Kusatsu-san. Please come, and make sure you come alone._

“What an excellent idea!” Wombat shouted, a habit that Kinshirō would have found infuriating even if he didn’t have a sleep-deprivation-double-telepathy-conversation headache developing somewhere deep in his brain.“Unity! Camaraderie! Truly you are manifesting your destiny as an heir to the throne of love!”

In Kinshirō’s mind, Homura continued, _And, if you haven’t realized you ought to, please act in our mutual best interest and refrain from telling anyone about your new powers and everything involved with that._

Yufuin shrugged. “Atsushi and I talked it through on the way here. So, Student Council? Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Arima and Akoya said in unison.

Kinshirō opened his mouth. But what could he say? _I think I met an alien yesterday, when I made a wish to bring Atsushi back to life. Now I have a Soul Gem. I fought a monster that I think is a manifestation of negative emotions in humans, which has the power to hurt or kill, but which no one can see besides me and some Magical Girls. I think. And I have no idea what this has to do with our powers or our aliens or anything at all._ No. That wouldn’t work, not now, in front of all of them. Just trying to talk about Atsushi _dead_ would be too much for him. And as for what Homura said –

“Agreed,” Kinshirō echoed.

* * *

 

“Look, Kure-san, I’ll do everything I can –”

“Kinosaki, put your phone away or I’ll have you written up for breaking school policy in addition to everything else.”

The phone clicked off. “Hmph. I’m a journalist. It’s my prerogative to be in touch with sources and audience.”

“You’re not a journalist at Binan Highschool anymore,” Kinshirō replied. “And if you want to remain here at all, you’ll conform to the official version of events in public and private, on school grounds and off them. Tazawa too.”

“This is censorship by intimidation, President Kusatsu, and I won’t stand for it!”

Kinshirō considered. “Yes, it is an enforced censorship. I suppose you should have considered that before misleading us and facilitating an illegal reality television show. One would expect that someone with your admirable concern for journalistic ethics would be –”

There was a knock on the door of the room that used to belong to the Press Society. “Arima, no need to join me. They’re both being cooperative.” It was half true. Tazawa was his usual silent self.

“Ah, actually, it’s me, Kin-chan.” Atsushi Kinugawa poked his head in. “Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. Just checking, because school is over in five minutes and you’re still dealing with them – ah, Kin-chan, you look _really_ tired.”

“Oh, yes, I guess I must.” Despite his exhaustion, he felt himself smile and even start to laugh a little. It was good that Atsushi was there, that he cared. “Thank you, At-chan, things are fine here. We were just finishing up. Making sure they’re clear on everything.”

“Good. You know, the Defense Club will back you up if they give any trouble.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Kinosaki snarled. “Come on, Tazawa, we have better things to do with our time now.” And Tazawa, who had gathered up the cameras, wordlessly followed Kinosaki out the door.

“Whew, I’m glad that’s over,” Atsushi said, coming in the door. “That could have been a much bigger mess than it was. Thanks to you –”

“No.” He almost turned away, but he found enough courage to meet Atsushi’s gaze. “If it weren’t for what we did as Caerula Adamas, they wouldn’t have had much material to work with in the first place. I should be the one tasked with setting things right. That is, I don’t deserve _thanks_ for doing this.”

“Well, you guys saved us all yesterday too, we couldn’t have done it without the three of you, so really, I disagree. But it’s good you arranged everything. If we had to take care of things, that would have put En in charge, and . . .”

“Yes?”

“Well, the tower would still be on the verge of falling off the school, for one thing.” Atsushi grinned. “So this is their lair. Or it _was_ their lair.” He started poking around at the desk that stood against the far wall. “I wonder how many hours they spent here, you know, writing things up . . . editing those pictures of us on this fancy computer . . . hey, wait. Is that a . . . _fishbowl_?”

He held up a glass bowl filled with gravel, water, and a little plastic plant, and then they both began to laugh, and laughed until tears ran down their cheeks and Kinshirō’s ribcage ached.

“That was good;” Atsushi said, “it reminded me of old times. So, you’re walking home with me, right?”

Kinshirō felt his heart fall. “I – no. I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t even know it would come up before today, and – I’d tell you about it, but I think it’s supposed to be kept private. A matter to do with someone else. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not Student Council stuff, is it?”

“No.”

“Good!” Atsushi said cheerfully. “You’ve done more than your share of work for one day. We’ll walk home together Monday, then.”

“Yes,” Kinshirō replied gratefully, “Monday. I promise.”

“Sure, promise. I missed you, Kin-chan.”

“And I’ve missed you.”

He was so happy to be friends again with Atsushi. So happy that the long burden of hatred and denial was lifted from him. So why did a sort of sadness wrap around his heart like an unresolved loss? Like despair? Why had Homura Akemi given him that look of unfathomable pity?

 _You saved me when I said I hated you, At-chan,_ he thought _. You never stopped considering me a friend, even when I did. I’ll do better with my wish, this time. I’ll do whatever I have to, with no regrets, to see it through._ The gem in his ring shone steady gold, now swept with the faintest black dust. _I know our oath is unbreakable._

 


	2. Chapter 2

_If I am not for me, who is for me?_

_And if I am for myself, what am I?_

_And if not now, when?_

* * *

In a smooth, toneless voice, Homura Akemi told Kinshirō that she would teach him to do what Magical Girls did, and that the best way to start would be to assess his abilities in an actual fight.

The Wraiths – three of them – awaited them at the bridge at the edge of the city in their senescent, unborn phases. Homura quietly pointed out the signs she followed – the strange mists which only Magical Girls could see, the way cracks in the concrete seemed to form not random patterns but deliberate arcane fractals that Kinshirō found he could read like an old, old alphabet: _Danger! Evil! Curses!_ A human who passed into the midst of the Wraiths would very soon find himself hurt or dead or twisted by the curses borne by them. The idea was unpleasantly reminiscent of what Caerula Adamas had done in the name of conquest with the Zundar Needles, taking students who had unresolved fears and complexes and turning them into monsters.

Nothing could make Kinshirō want to defeat the Wraiths more than that.

“Right, they should be about to spawn.”

They stood beneath the tall arched underside of the bridge, which stood empty of cars or passers-by but was choked with a thickening miasma. “Transform now,” Homura said, and in a glimmer of purple she was dressed all in lavender and black, bearing a black bow as tall as she was. Behind her, Kinshirō transformed and drew his sword. _Chevalier Aurite_ , he thought to himself. _The Golden Chevalier, shining in radiance._ In the place of the old pin at his collar, his teardrop-shaped Soul Gem rested, glimmering faintly. “And,” Homura said, drawing back an arrow of purple light, “get ready to run.”

Beneath them, a Wraith erupted from the ground. Kinshirō launched himself in the air. Homura spread two cloud-white wings and flew upward.

The Wraith struck out at them with a huge bony hand. The glitching of its face sped up when Kinshirō came within where its line of sight would have been if it had eyes. Its head was wreathed in a stream of almost-audible thought and feeling – a collection of human hatreds swarming around it, brushing through Kinshirō's clothes and skin until the feelings couldn't be separated from him, and it made him want to vomit. He rebounded off the top of the stone arch, throwing himself at the Wraith, slashing his sword before him. Too late, he saw the second and third Wraiths rise from below, reaching up to snatch him – and then a hail of purple bolts rained down, crashing into the Wraiths’ forms like a field of lightning. As he fell among the storm, Kinshirō stabbed out desperately, only to be jerked upward at the last moment.

“Can you try more than one?” Homura called, dragging him along by his shoulder as she circled out of the range of the Wraiths. “I’m trying to assess your general capabilities here. You’re trying to stab one with just your default sword; it doesn't look like it's going to be very effective on its own. Try to summon a bunch of them. Throw them around. Try something new. It’s magic, after all, Kusatsu-san!”

“Very well.” Kinshirō drew a breath. Tried to clear his head. Everything between fighting that first Wraith alone last night and this moment was a sleepless blur. He felt the magic well up in his heart, flow through his bloodstream like molten gold, seep into his fingertips and – nothing happened. He imagined golden light, golden blades, a thousand of them – nothing.

“Think of your wish if you have to,” Homura shouted, her voice echoing through the underpass. “Think of what you wanted so much you chose this path. If you were to die in battle because your abilities don’t meet the challenge –”

Kinshirō reached within himself, tried to summon what he had felt when Atsushi lay dead before him, but suddenly to his horror all he could remember was how angry he had been at Atsushi for all those years, how much hate he had borne, how he had wanted him dead and said so to his face.

“Come on!” Homura said. “You may have special powers connected to your wish, Kusatsu-san. You wanted your friendship with, what was his name – Kinugawa – to last forever. Do it!” As she spoke, she lashed out with her bow at the rising mist. “I can’t shoot while I’m holding onto you.” One of the Wraiths below them disappeared and emerged floating steady in midair at their level. The other two began to phase in and out of view, now high, now low.

_This is the bargain_. _This was the bargain you made for the life of Atsushi Kinugawa and the chance at his friendship. You cannot fail at it so easily as this._ Still, nothing. Just the single sword.

Homura met his gaze, nodded once, and let him fall again.

Now the Wraiths moved with a sickening, inhuman quickness, things born to hate unceasingly, tirelessly. _My own hatred was strong enough_ , Kinshirō thought helplessly as he sped towards their upturned faces, the air frothing where their mouths would be. _My own hatred nearly consumed me._ The Wraiths were hungry. They would swallow him whole, digest his soul into uncaring mechanical components that didn’t know good from evil or love from hatred or remember anything of a clear night long ago beneath falling stars –

“ _No!_ ” he screamed, and a dozen swords burst from his fingertips and flew out in a rush to tear through the Wraiths, raking their shoulders and their white draped wraps, as he flipped himself in midair, cape flaring behind him in the wake of their buzzing aura. A purple arrow shot just beneath him, taking one of the Wraiths in the neck. It would have been barely in time to save him if he’d failed.

“Don’t let them swarm,” Homura called after him. “Wraiths attract each other, and when they do –” she sent down another trio of arrows with motions too fast for Kinshirō to follow – “they can merge, and become stronger than the sum of their parts. Three is enough to be a major threat if we let them, so let’s finish them off before anything like that can happen.”

In answer, Kinshirō swept low, at the shrouded feet of the Wraiths. He sent swords spiraling through the air at them, driving them back, pinning the three wounded Wraiths together. Homura shot one arrow, then another, drifting down almost lazily towards the Wraiths as they cowered, as if she didn't care how close she came. Against the gossamer backdrop of her wings, Kinshirō could see an aura of dark colors whirling, like the shapes that writhed in the dark behind closed eyelids, nerves firing in some inexplicable staccato pattern. One of the Wraiths spun suddenly, so that she was within its reach. The aura expanded and darkened. Kinshirō opened his mouth to warn her, but it was too swift. The Wraith struck out, and Kinshirō reached with all his magic, all his hope –

Time stopped. The moment of Homura’s peril suspended in the air like a loud, clear chord, unmoving, unending, unbroken by time. An instant that would last forever.

Kinshirō threw himself upwards, grabbed Homura, who was frozen in midair, and pulled her aside. Then he took his sword in hand, an accustomed motion, and sent himself stabbing it through the Wraith’s back, at where its heart would lie within it, if it had one. A silver-golden light fell from above and flared out like a dying sun at the heart of the skirmish. Kinshirō swung himself back up and grabbed onto Homura’s arms.

As time began again, the Wraiths folded away like wet paper before Kinshirō and Homura, who stared at him, her wings holding the two of them aloft, speechless and trembling.

* * *

En Yufuin was enjoying a peaceful late afternoon of wandering around the outskirts of the city aimlessly, to better reduce the risk of having to go do actual schoolwork or anything much, when his Loveracelet pulsed once.

His first instinct was to ignore it, and En usually trusted his first instincts out of hand. Then he remembered that the one time his Loveracelet alerted him and he brushed it off – for only a moment – as a totally innocuous anomaly, he had been emotionally manipulated by a monster into provoking a horrible fight with his best friend for no reason whatsoever.

_Nope_ , he thought. He ducked behind a nearby thicket of bushes and transformed into Battle Lover Cerulean. And then? How was he supposed to find out what was going on, if a crazy monster didn’t jump out at him suddenly, ranting about its sad sad life? On the off chance, he waited a minute or two, but the scene remained as quiet and everyday as before. He pulled out his scepter, on a hunch, and was pleased to see that when pointed in one direction it glowed a brighter blue. That would do for now. He shot off a text message to - he considered, and made the decision to not let things spiral into chaos immediately - Atsushi, Kusatsu, and Arima about the incident, asking them if they had more information. Then he began to sprint in the direction of whatever it was that was unloving.

It gave out as he was crossing an empty bridge. "Well, now what?” he asked himself. He looked around him, but there were no monsters, and no people, either. And he didn’t _think_ he felt the effects of emotional manipulation – _wait_. Down below the bridge, was that a girl about his age walking away from the bridge? She was dressed in the uniform of a nearby girl’s highschool. And beside her – was that _Kinshirō Kusatsu?_

_Something_ was up.

He followed them at a distance as they made their way into the heart of the city to a café with outdoor seating, where Kusatsu unceremoniously collapsed into a chair and slumped over the table. Highly uncharacteristic. The girl took a seat behind him, but En couldn’t read anything in particular from her face or body language. Was Kusatsu involved in some scheme, or being manipulated by her, or was something else entirely going on to activate his Loveracelet? He headed over to them.

“Hey, President Kusatsu!” En said, rapping loudly on the wrought-iron table. “You’re sleeping in a café in public?This is the weirdest role reversal I’ve ever seen.”

“Ah – Yufuin?” Kusatsu replied, half-awake and clearly confused. “What – why are you here?”

“Did you blow off Atsushi to go on a date? Is _that_ why my Loveracelet thinks that something unloving is going on here?”

“ _What?_ No. Why are you dressed –”

Suddenly En remembered that he was basically wearing an outrageously frilly costume in the middle of public. Oh well. Wombat’s advanced technology was probably turned on again. Or not. Whatever.

“We’re _not_ on a date,” said the girl.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Homura Akemi.” She looked up at him, her mouth drawn into a thin line, as if she were waiting for him to go, but En, in fact, had no intention of going anywhere, whatever this Homura Akemi thought.

“Okay, well, Akemi-san, you can call me Battle Lover Cerulean. I’m just here to make sure that nothing unloving happens. I have a great line, ‘You who befoul our beloved Earth’, though I have to say, without anyone following up with the second half of the sentence it sort of falls flat. So, Kusatsu, did you even get my text?”

“I – no, I haven't seen it.”

“You’re not trying to conquer the world in the name of misanthropy again, are you? I mean, you really seemed all good when everything was through, it’s not like I’m suspicious of you just because of the past. But do you have any idea what would cause my Loveracelet to go off by the edge of the city, out by the bridge that almost no one uses?”

Kusatsu shuddered, as if he were utterly exhausted. En had never, outside of yesterday’s events, seen him so off balance. “I do, actually. Yufuin, why don’t you sit down with us? I’ll order, ah, tea, I guess. And chocolate croissants. I have an apology to make to you.”

“Kusatsu-san,” the girl named Homura Akemi said, with a note of warning, “remember what I told you.”

“Akemi-san,” Kusatsu replied, “I have to.”

The three of them sat and ate, as Kusatsu told En a number of things En would have rejected as absurd if he hadn’t just spent more than two months as a magical prince of love egged on by an alien who appeared to be a pink wombat. Homura Akemi listened without interrupting, but the whole time she was running a hand through her long black hair, getting more and more agitated.

Atsushi Kinugawa had died yesterday when he saved Kusatsu from the falling bell tower. It was not a thought or an image En wanted to dwell on, but it wouldn’t leave his mind. He tried to think what he would have done if that had stayed true – and what Ryū and Io and Yumoto would have done.

He couldn’t think of anything that would have mattered.

The rest – Kusatsu’s wish, his task, his new state of being, his tutelage under Homura Akemi – was easy to comprehend, by comparison. Finally Kusatsu said, “I have to apologize to you, Yufuin. I promised to tell you and the others about any new threats or magic or aliens, and I didn’t. It was because I didn’t know how I would explain it, and because Akemi-san had warned me to keep it private. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Atsushi got killed saving me yesterday. It was my fault. My sword.”

“Everyone’s alive now,” En replied. But he realized that he was gripping his scepter so tightly his nails were digging into his palm. “And it was an accident; you didn’t try to kill him then, even though you said you would. And you’re over that now anyway.”

“Yes. Still.”

“Yeah.” En swallowed, trying to untense his jaw. “It was the Wraiths that set off my Loveracelet, then?” he said, trying to sound casual.

“I suppose so. It’s possible you and the others have some small capacity to perceive them or help fight them, but I don’t think it would be very effective, once curses gather in such a way that Wraiths fully spawn.”

“Hm.”

Kusatsu set down his teacup so hard it almost broke. “Yufuin,” he said quietly, looking down, “I want to ask something of you. It’s your choice if you accept or not. You’ll have to choose what you think is right. But please, don’t tell Atsushi about this. About what happened, and my wish, and everything– keep it a secret. Because I couldn’t face him –”

“Akemi-san!” A girl’s voice cut across the outdoor café space, cutting off Kusatsu’s words. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” A tall young woman with twin yellow ponytails half-ran toward their table. On her shoulder perched a small animal somewhat reminiscent of a white weasel, but En was experienced by now, and was pretty sure it was actually an alien, and, to judge by his prior experience with aliens, probably crazy. “Is this the new recruit you’re mentoring? Kyōko said – Ah, hello!” She looked at En. “Are you the Chevalier? What a nice costume!”

“Tomoe-san,” Akemi interjected, “maybe we can talk soon, but –”

“I am _definitely_ not the Chevalier. But he might be,” En replied, jerking a thumb at Kusatsu. Even in his fancy Student Council uniform, he didn’t look as much like a Chevalier sort as usual, En mused; he seemed disheveled, exhausted, overwhelmed.

“Ah, well, I’m pleased to meet you both! I’m Mami Tomoe, and this is Kyubey. Um, assuming you can see him?” she said, addressing En. “He’s invisible to most people.”

“I’m En Yufuin, I go to Binan Highschool. So does he. I can see Kyubey fine, by the way.”

“My name is Kinshirō Kusatsu. I’m honored to meet you, Tomoe-san.”

A sunny smile broke across her face. Kyubey jumped down to the table with feline ease. _Hello, En, Yufuin_ , it said telepathically. Or vocally? En wasn't sure. _How interesting to meet you._

“Hi. Um, why don’t you sit down with us, Tomoe-san? We have a croissant left.”

“Oh, well . . . thank you.” Mami Tomoe took a seat gracefully and En, seeing nothing better to do, poured her a cup of tea, which made her smile even more broadly. “If Kusatsu-san is the person my friend Kyōko met last night," she said, "Who are you? Are you also a Magical Boy?”

“Not the way he is. I’m not like a Magical Girl, anyway, is what I’m starting to gather. I'm a Battle Lover, me and my friends in the Earth Defense Club at school. It’s something completely different.”

“I had no idea there was anything else. But I also had no idea that Kyubey could recruit boys as well as girls. Your costume is quite nice, by the way.”

_Consider Kinshirō an exceptional case_ , Kyubey said in its unnervingly clear voice. _I am glad to see you with him, Homura Akemi. New Mages always have so much to learn._

“Tomoe-san, what did you want to talk to me about?” Homura Akemi said in a weary voice.

“Ah . . .” Mami took the last croissant. “In Kazamino, there are reports of a Magical Girl – or maybe more than one – doing something bad. I got word from a girl named Yuma Chitose. She’s a few years younger than us.”

“And what’s the problem? Letting Wraiths swarm?” Akemi sounded bored. “I wouldn’t say that I approve, but it’s a common practice for a reason.”

“No, I don’t think it’s something like that.” Mami sighed. “I’m not sure, really. Even Chitose doesn’t know exactly what’s going on; she suggested different things from what _she’s_ heard. That this person – or people – are assassinating Magical Girls, or that they’re kidnapping them and holding them until their magic begins to run low . . . or even that they know how to cause Wraiths to spawn, and are doing so for I reasons I couldn’t guess if I tried. I don’t even know who they are or what they look like or anything. I’m worried.”

Homura took a sip of tea, looking supremely unconcerned. “We can monitor the situation.”

“We can help!” En said suddenly. “I mean the Battle Lovers." _And maybe Caerula Adamas too, now that we're all on the same page?_ he thought. “We’re supposed to fight threats to the world.” As soon as he finished speaking he wondered why he'd said anything. Volunteer to get mixed up in new conflicts he didn't understand? _There's so much that doesn't make sense,_ he thought. _Atsushi dying, in Kusatsu's story. Me getting into that stupid fight with him because of that monster. Yumoto having to fight off his brainwashed older brother. Wraiths._ And thousands of other things he didn't know, piled one after another. He couldn't _just_ stand by and wait, even if he didn't know what he could do about it.

“I don’t think you should get involved,” Akemi said shortly.

“On the contrary,” Mami said, “I really appreciate what you’re saying! Ours is always a fragile position, Yufuin-san, but with more friends we can be stronger. Akemi-san, we shouldn’t rule out an offer of help from any corner. You should understand that.” Mami's eyes hardened. “The three – no, the _four_ of us may be in danger. It sounds like this Magical Girl – or Girls – are strong, and we have no idea of their real motives or powers.”

“Really?” Akemi said, as if she, perhaps, had an idea. “What does Kyubey think?”

_I do not plan to mediate in disputes between Magical Girls. Any interference in your work entails risks to our goals that I intend to avoid, inasmuch as you can say that, indeed, I_ intend _anything._

“Naturally. Whoever is doing this bears the same relation to you that we all do,” Homura said. “Well, we can try to find more information ourselves. While not neglecting the Wraiths, of course. And we’ll take precautions, not go out to fight alone. You can stick with Kyōko. I’ll take charge of Kusatsu.” She met Mami’s gaze and held it, as if daring her to try to push the matter further. It seemed to En that Mami was the senior Magical Girl here, that she was speaking as if she were the leader of the three Magical Girls in the equation, plus Kusatsu. But Homura Akemi, with a slight note of disdain in her voice, clearly felt that she had a role apart in decision making.

Mami Tomoe nodded. “Very well. I suppose that will have to do for the moment,” she said, setting down her empty teacup, which chimed softly against its saucer. “Thank you, Akemi-san. Kusatsu and Yufuin-san, it was very nice to meet you. Thank you for the tea and pastry, and please stay safe! I hope we see each other soon.” She gathered Kyubey in her arms, and waved them a sedate goodbye.

It occurred to En only after she had passed out of view that Mami Tomoe would have made a better Battle Lover than any of the members of Binan Highschool’s Earth Defense Club, except perhaps Yumoto. Mami seemed like the sort of person who would have been dedicated to protecting others by any means, and she wouldn’t have stood around debating how stupid she might have looked doing so. Not that she would have looked stupid at all, he expected. Suddenly he felt that there was a lot to do but that he had no idea what role he could play in any of it. Unbidden, the image of Atsushi covered in blood and dead on the ground came again to him. He had never felt more powerless, like he lost something more valuable, even though in the reality he knew he hadn’t lost anything at all.

“As for what you were asking," he told Kusatsu before he left, "I understand. And I don't plan on mentioning this to anyone for now. It's clearly full of complications. But you. You’re going to go off by yourself and kill Wraiths?”

“I'll be all right. Akemi-san will guide me.”

"Fine. So long as whatever you have to do is - nevermind. I would have done the same thing as you, in your place. I'm with you."

* * *

Homura strode away from the café with a quick and deliberate pace, and Kinshirō had to push himself to keep up with her. More than once she opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. It was a distinct change from her usual collected demeanor, and in a strange way, Kinshirō recognized it. It was usually so very easy and satisfying to project a calm, collected, utterly rational persona, but for him, it had been a mask for emotions that were completely uncontrolled – and a flimsy mask at that. So what was Homura hiding inside her?

“Are you worried about this threat Mami Tomoe mentioned?” he asked. “This evil Magical Girl?”

“I doubt it,” Homura said in clipped tones. “It's two Magical Girls, actually. I’m almost certain I know who they are, and if it comes to it, they’re predictable enough. Once they threatened – a friend of mine. That’s when I first learned about them, and in time I learned all I needed to know about neutralizing them.”

“And why didn’t you mention this to Mami Tomoe?”

Homura stopped in her tracks, but she didn’t turn to look at him. Her face was obscured by her long dark hair. “Why should Mami Tomoe ever believe anything about me that matters?” she said. “Explain to me this, Kusatsu-san, why should I say anything _important_ to someone who has no reason to believe the most fundamental constant in our world?”

“I – why say something to me about it, then?”

Homura shrugged. “Because I let my guard down, after all this time? I’m very weary, Kinshirō Kusatsu. You are an anomaly I hoped to keep contained. Whatever questions I had about you and your circumstances, I hoped never to have to learn answers to. You should be wondering why I left you to your own devices yesterday. Why would I leave someone who’s just made his wish to make mistakes that could kill him because he knows nothing? Mami Tomoe wouldn’t do such a thing. You fought a Wraith last night. I could tell by the signature of your magic today and the extent to which your Soul Gem was already tainted when we met. Shouldn’t I have been there to guide you? You didn’t even know how to use your magic properly, didn’t even know how to use Grief Cubes, didn’t know the primacy of your Soul Gem. I delayed teaching you all this, because fear of the unknown makes me foolish. And fear of the known even more so. I heard your wish.”

Finally she turned so they stood face to face. For a moment her expression broke into a sort of sour smile, and she absentmindedly swept a thick lock of black hair away from her face, swishing back with her dark pink hair ribbons in a breeze that almost wasn’t there. It made her seem so _human_ in that moment that Kinshirō wanted to reach out to her – to gently take her hand, perhaps – but he was used to suppressing the feeling of sympathy, of wanting to connect with another person. And it seemed that Homura Akemi was used to it as well. Still, sensitive though she seemed, he had to do _something_.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere quiet, at least, Akemi-san.”

The cinema was only a few blocks up. Kinshirō had never been inside it, despite passing by almost daily on his way back from school, because for years had he had consciously loathed the notion of mingling publicly for the sort of entertainment offered by movies. He dismissed it as crude. But he paid their way in and found in the back one small, empty theater. There in the dark the two of them took seats before the blank screen and waited in silence. It was not Homura’s defensive silence anymore, though. The two of them together were both quiet, and trusted one another not to speak, not to break the moment that, wordlessly, they shared.

With a click, the show began. It didn’t startle either of them. It was the natural course of things that the movie should begin and that they should watch it together.

The first scene depicted two boys about their age in a bathhouse, in the bath together. One was clearly Yufuin En, and the other was Atsushi Kinugawa. Homura glanced over to Kinshirō, raising an eyebrow; in reply, he shrugged. She kept a straight face, but was clearly amused. The scene continued through some dialogue about oden that Kinshirō would have thought of as nonsensical had he not actually been used to overhearing the two of them speak that way. Presently a pink wombat made a sudden appearance, making Homura shake with suppressed giggling. Shortly thereafter, the scene changed, and the two characters met the three members of the Student Council making their way home.

“That’s you!” Homura whispered.

“Yes.”

Then the title credits: _Can You Destroy the Earth? 2_

Kinshirō had to admit: the show was pretty funny. Homura actually laughed out loud a few times – mostly at the scene in which the so-called Battle Lovers transformed (and also when Kinshirō and the other two members of Caerula Adamas reappeared ominously right at the end).

“It gets better,” he told her when the episode ended and the projector shut off. “In the next episode, I expect, they introduce Lord Zundar.”

“Lord Zundar.”

“He’s also an alien. Like the Wombat. But he looks like a green hedgehog. He’s from the Planet Evil.”

Homura looked him dead in the eyes. “A green hedgehog told you he was from _Planet Evil_. And you believed him.”

“It was . . . not my brightest moment, admittedly.” They both started to laugh again. Kinshirō thought of intelligent aliens all across the galaxy watching him solemnly accept orders from a Lord Zundar who lay resting in his teacup, nose twitching. All the viewers enjoying Kinshirō’s unbearably superior attitude about the most petty, pathetic of plots, effectively, his ultimate folly – well, that was done. No changing it. No going back to that behavior, either, though. He thought the shame of it should hurt more, but Homura laughing made it – not just bearable, but funny. “But if I believed something as truly ridiculous as that . . . you can trust me to believe you, too.”

“Believe me about what?” Homura asked.

“Whatever Tomoe wouldn’t believe that’s so important to you, perhaps.”

Homura sighed, but not unhappily. “There are forces in this universe that are too big and strange for your comprehension, Kusatsu-san.” She manifested her Soul Gem, which shone faintly, unclouded. “I heard your wish, and it was an echo of my own, long ago, and that was what scared me. I guess I was afraid to face it. Even Kyubey doesn’t know my wish, not in this world. The truth about wishes is that in the end, you have to pay for them, and the price is always different from what you thought you’d have to part with. One of the things I had to sacrifice is the chance at someone ever really understanding who I am, even other Magical Girls. Honestly, the idea of someone believing me is the most precious thing left to me, but I’ve been without any hope of that for so long that I don’t know if _I_ can really believe it. So perhaps consider forgiving me that I don’t explain very well. My memories – to hear them disregarded yet again, even in honest kindness, the way Tomoe and Sakura do is too much for me to deal with yet again.”

“I’ll try to understand. I trust what you say to me. I promise.” He placed his arm on the narrow armrest beside hers so that their arms nearly touched, and leaned his head close to hers to listen to her quiet voice in the darkness.

“I –” Homura seemed to collapse in on herself. Her words came slowly. “Once I had a friend. She would have given anything, paid with – with more than her life – to protect this cursed world. I would have paid any price but the one she chose herself, and I did, endlessly, time and time again, trying to save her from her doom. Until she found the doom she truly wanted. That’s the sick irony of it. Now the only thing left to me is to fight to protect what she deemed worthy of protection. But is it truly enough? I’m not sure. It used to be that if I had a doubt, or made a misstep, I could always correct it. I could learn from my mistakes, and ensure that they wouldn’t even be made at all. I had that power. Now I’m only guessing. I have to trust my judgment. But I’m not sure if my judgment is worth anything anymore. I’m not sure if it ever was, to be honest.”

“You wished for your friend’s sake, and now she’s lost to you . . .” Kinshirō whispered in the hush of the theater. If Atsushi Kinugawa had somehow slipped through his fingers - if all he was left with was the memory of his childhood wish and the knowledge that despite everything Atsushi had never stopped considering him a friend - he would be lost, too. He had the sudden urge to protect Homura, absurd because her absent friend and the choices they made lay in a past he couldn't touch. If he had another wish, he would spend it on the spot to help her. But all he had was himself, and Homura's grief seemed suddenly larger than the world. "Who was she who you care about so much?"

“No one would recognize her name anymore, except as a different way of saying _Law of Cycles._ She doesn’t have a human life anymore. She never existed as a human girl in this world. But she was the only thing I loved in all the universes.” Homura glanced up at him and turned away quickly, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes. She had let him see that, which he guessed she kept well hidden even from the other Magical Girls she knew.

Slowly Homura stood up. In the dim theater Kinshirō couldn’t see her well; everything was obscured in shadows. “Did you even know you had that power you used?” she said in a flat voice. “Stopping time?”

“No. Is there a lot of variation in Magical Girl powers?”

“Some are connected to a person’s wish . . .” Homura put a hand to her temple, and with a graceful motion unwound her hair ribbons. “You wanted your friendship with Kinugawa to last forever. I assume that you can make an instant seem to last forever, make it timeless.” She paused, then said, “It can make a major impact in battle, even if your overall magical power isn’t particularly strong, which seems to be the case.”

“I’ll try to develop it, then. I want to make myself useful. Not be a hindrance.” He thought of the strange aura around Homura during their battle, how close she had come – or seemed to come – to falling into the hands of the Wraiths. He thought of everything she had told him, the splintered fragments of a story that left her bearing a burden all alone.

“You will be fine, I’m sure. Your focus will do you credit." Homura began retying her hair ribbons with practiced efficiency. "If I have one word of advice, it’s this: You are contracted to fight Wraiths until you die. Or until the Law of Cycles takes you. That’s it. That’s why I told you not to tell anyone about this, too, and why I think it might have been a mistake to confide in En Yufuin, though you may prove me wrong about that. You owe no one any emotion or relationship. No one owes you any emotion or relationship. That’s friendly advice I’m only giving once, and I’m giving it free. Magical Girls can easily come to regret their wishes, to hate themselves . . . so when you are challenged, when who you truly are is on the line, think of your Soul Gem. It is harder than any natural stone, even diamond. Make your heart that way. Nothing anyone has said or will say could break my heart from my chosen path. Nothing could make me turn away from my wish to save her. Even now, I know it's all I really have.”

“I’ll try. I'll hold true to my wish, Akemi-san. You have my word.”

"Everyone believes that when they first make a wish. But for now I'll trust you. And . . . you have my thanks for listening, Kusatsu-san."

They stepped out of the theater into the merciful dimness of dusk. "Call me Kinshirō. We're friends now, aren't we?"

"Perhaps. _Kinshirō_." There was a half-smile at the corners of Homura's mouth now, but Kinshirō couldn't say if it was happy. "And you . . . may call me Homura. If you will."

"I will. _Homura._ Thank you."

He turned to go. From a few meters down the block, he heard her voice one last time, but he couldn't tell if her words were for him or only for herself. Or perhaps for someone else, for the friend she had lost and couldn't reach? “Don't forget,” Homura said in a whisper, as if she were reliving a memory, “always, somewhere, someone is fighting for you. As long as you remember her, you are not alone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I learned how to spell the word croissant. Useful, huh?
> 
> 2\. In the Wraith multiverse, shouldn't there be a mechanic that allows Magical Girls to reap greater rewards by allowing a foe to grow more powerful and perhaps terrorize additional innocents before trying to take them out, to preserve the space for the sort of conflicts generated by Familiars? I made that assumption . . .

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: If I'm butchering the use of honorifics (which I'm trying to use for specific purposes and not everywhere they possibly could be in real life) or it's not working that I'm writing things given name-surname instead of the reverse (or going with e.g. 'Mr. Tawarayama' and 'Lord Zundar' in the middle of all this), or I've screwed up which characters are likely to refer to or address specific others by surname versus given name, &c. please let me know.
> 
> This work is orthogonal to Magical Boys (. . . that's what I always call the show - I know, I know) and Madoka canon, and they bear approximately equal weight overall. Probably.
> 
> I should make approximately one thousand apologies for the title, but, well, here we are.


End file.
